


Artist to Artist

by give-me-juuzou (Destiel_Darlings)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Artist Castiel, Artist Dean, Cute, Cutesy, Ficlet, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 02:54:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2605880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destiel_Darlings/pseuds/give-me-juuzou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Castiel meet for the first time in their high school art class, and Dean is left to figure out how he feels for himself. Highschool!AU, artist!Cas, artist!Dean, ficlet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artist to Artist

He had always imagined himself as a more big-tits-thick-ass kind of man when it came to women. The mentally ingrained image of himself with two hot babes on either arm existed since he first set eyes on a girl and popped a hard one.

Yet, through all that, here he was, shaking in his skin as he sat next to his assigned art partner in his Advanced Art II class. Nerves ran down his spine as he anxiously glanced over at the small, pale, dark-haired boy who seemed just as nervous as he was. Thick, tortoiseshell rimmed glasses perched at the end of his slightly freckled nose and- jesus, there is no way he found this boy so cute.

Dean had always found himself considerably attractive; at least, that is what his reputation seemed to leave in everyone's minds. A long string of uncommitted flings made up his relationship history, consisting of bodacious dumb blondes and well-endowed dark haired girls with twisted personalities. He was a fit 6'1 dirty blonde who was raised the son of a stay out home wife and die-hard veteran who was a hard ass, but a gentleman. Dean had inherited his mother’s good looks and his father's muscular physic; sadly, he only gained about half of his father’s brains, so he had to improvise a little in the beneficial talent area. All around, he was a stereotypical high school male athlete who was trying to show off every day.

This boy, curiously, Dean had never seen before. However, when his art teacher had declared that they would be working with assigned partners on their next big project, Dean found himself frozen when his teacher called out his name then his partner’s name.

"Castiel, you'll be working with Dean," his teacher had announced, and the boy had walked from the front row down the center aisle to sit down on the stool next to his.

Dean had been unable to remove his eyes from the 5'6 brunette with bedhead hair and the softest looking skin that Dean had ever seen that pulled over sharp cheekbones in the best possible way covered by simple pair of cargo shorts and a tank top with some artistic design across the front.

When Dean finally shook himself from his silence, noticing that everyone else had begun brainstorming with their partners, he turned to face the boy.

"So, Castiel, what did you wanna do for this project? I'm kinda shit with planning, so just hit me with something," Dean told him with a pearly white grin and a chuckle.

When he turned to look at him, he gulped. His eyes sparkled blue with a twinge of turquoise around the iris. They looked like miniature oceans lapping at his pupils. God, since when had he been such a cheese ball?

"Um, well, I don't really care..." the soft voice finally escaped his plump chapped lips and Dean could feel himself staring a little too much.

"I see," Dean chuckled to himself. "Well, I'm more of a body horror artist myself."

Castiel seemed to perk up at that. "Body horror? Really? I am oddly surprised by such an interest coming from someone like you."

Dean grimaced internally. "Do I really seem that douchey?" he asked, looking down at the table and scratching the back of his head in embarrassment. He knew that he was kind of a dick, but he could not believe he already had such a shitty impression of him. That is so typical, he thought to himself.

"No, actually," he suddenly interjected, stammering a little. Dean turned back to face him, and his face flushed red before he hid his eyes behind his thick-rimmed glasses. "I just, I mean, that you hang out with some people who sit near me, and they're not really in to anything as interesting as what you are interested in, not that you're like them, you seem nice, I mean, like, not like them, cause they're kinda rude but-"

"Thanks," Dean smiled, genuinely. It felt weird, suddenly perking up at such awkward apology, but it seemed that he found his awkwardness rather endearing. "I wouldn't really call them my friends though. They’re assholes."

The two smiled at each other in a pleasant silence before they heard their teacher cough from behind their desk where she was wandering the class, to which they both immediately glanced down at their desks in embarrassment.

"Anyway, maybe we could do something like a portrait with some kind of addition that gave it some extra meaning...if that makes any sense," he suggested awkwardly, to which Castiel merely nodded in agreement, and immediately returned to the tiny sketch book he seemed to keep on hand.

As Dean watched Castiel begin to sketch away, his small hands clutching his book and pen as if they were his saving grace, his eyes trained diligently upon his book and seemingly in deep thought, he suddenly felt his heart begin to slip into the hands of this fragile little angel with the small voice and deep ocean eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Dunno if I should continue with this, it's just a rough thing that I wrote a while ago and I kinda liked it.


End file.
